


Modern Fairytale

by howelllesters



Series: Hand Over Heart [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Pastel Dan, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Punk Phil, the violence and blood warnings are super mild but it's best to stay safe!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan hadn’t even wanted to go watch his flatmate’s friend’s band perform, but now he was backstage and trying really hard not to make eye contact with the guitar player because he was really, really, unfairly cute. Or, the ridiculously long and fluffy sassy pastel!Dan and nerdy punk!Phil AU that no one wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Fairytale

“Could you at least try and look like you’re having a good time?”

“I’m having a great time, see?”

Dan pointed at his face, wearing the most deadpan expression he could muster.

“You’re so irritating,” Ed grumbled, shoving him on the arm.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dan reasoned with him, pushing himself off the pole he’d been leaning on and drawing up to his full height in an attempt to look a little more enthusiastic. “And I’m not having a _bad_ time… it’s just that those first two bands were…”

“Not great?” Ed suggested.

“Crap.”

“Oh shut up, just because this isn’t your taste in music.”

“You don’t need to like heavy metal to be able to hear when a drummer is out of time or when a singer is doing an excellent re-enactment of my grandma’s cat the time I stepped on it.”

A couple of people nearby shot Dan a glare, having heard his comments, but he just ignored them. He received such looks on nearly a daily basis, and he’d stopped paying attention to them a long time ago now. At least it was a refreshing change though, people disliking him for his opinion and not his fashion choices.

“Well they’re finished now anyway,” Ed grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and frowning at his friend.

It was clearly a face of regret at bringing Dan along in the first place, though Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected. He didn’t appreciate the look either - here he was in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by a bunch of people who were much too heavy-handed with the old eyeliner, wearing clothes he hadn’t touched in years now, and yet he was expected to be having more of a good time.

“My ears are rejoicing,” muttered Dan, though he held back a little on the biting sarcasm that dripped off almost every word he ever uttered.

“My mate’s band are good, I promise,” said Ed eagerly. “And they’re next.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dan said with a half-laugh. “I promised to come, I’ll stay. Got to see this infamous friend of yours as well. Judge if he can sing as well as you say he can.”

“Honestly mate, I’ve been in on a few of their rehearsals and they’re good, really good. Better than what we’ve heard already,” he added. Dan shot him a look - the hypocrite. “And will you stick around after? Go out for a drink maybe?”

“Maybe,” Dan said, seizing on the opportunity that final word afforded him. “See how late it is. I’ve got a 9am lecture on Thursday.”

“Dan… it’s Monday night.”

All that Ed received in reply was a smirk from his friend, and he rolled his eyes.

“For someone who lives his life in lilac jumpers and pink shirts, you can be a massive dick.”

“Firstly, that doesn’t even make sense,” Dan pointed out, going back to leaning against the pole. It was pretty comfy, and at his giant height, he could easily see the stage over the tops of the heads in front. “Secondly, I only have one pink shirt, and wearing that with a lilac jumper would be a crime against humanity.”

Ed shot him a look, but before their conversation could continue, the lights went down again and the audience geared up for the final act of the night, the thrill of anticipation building.

Without a word, the music started, a heavy drumbeat making Dan’s entire body thump, bass guitar giving him goosebumps. No, he didn’t tend to listen to this sort of music, but he could appreciate the excitement of a live show, and only a few seconds into this set, he could tell it was better than the opening acts by miles.

For the next hour or so, Dan could begrudgingly admit that he’d had a fairly good time. Ed had cheered embarrassingly loudly every time the lead singer said, well, anything, but aside from that, things had looked great. Sounded great, even. Only one person looked great, and Dan could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks even thinking about that bloody guitar player. He was glad it was dark.

Dan didn’t really have a _type_ , but there were a few things he just generally didn’t find attractive, and usually members of rock bands well and truly fell under that category, but there was something about this guitarist that was just different. He cringed at how cliché that thought had been. It was probably just that first solo that had captured his attention, and as soon as he was out in the fresh air, he’d come to his senses and realise that he was in no way attracted to someone like him. He’d remember the baby blue eyes and floppy blonde hair of that guy in the coffee shop who’d slipped him a phone number just yesterday, and all would be right in the world.

But _fuck_ , there was something incredibly sexy about the way he was playing that guitar, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, and Dan was definitely paying way too much attention to him. He wasn’t even sure what the man looked like if he was honest, his head dipped for most of the performance, but when they said their goodbyes before beginning the final song, the lights came up briefly, and Dan’s stomach did some sort of somersault at the smile he briefly gave the crowd before concentrating on his instrument again.

Coffee-shop guy, Dan reminded himself. He definitely likes you, mint jumpers and white skinny jeans and all. This guy had complete sleeves and probably stepped on people like Dan while at school. Think rationally.

—

Rational thinking had just flown out of the window, and Dan was sorely tempted to follow it if he was honest.

Apparently going out for a drink with Ed and his friend didn’t entail meeting him at the pub, oh no. Instead, Dan was currently standing very awkwardly in a tiny dressing room, wondering if it had ever actually been proven that humans _couldn’t_ be sucked into walls, and determinedly avoiding glancing at the corner of the room where someone was packing his guitar away.

“Dan, this is Ollie, my friend. Ollie, Dan, my flatmate.”

“Nice to meet you, mate,” Ollie grinned, sticking out a hand which Dan shook awkwardly. “Heard loads about you.”

“Great,” said Dan, and it couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic if he’d tried. It was as if he didn’t want friends?

“Was expecting one of the famous flower crowns,” Ollie laughed, apparently not noticing the tone of Dan’s voice.

This time there was no darkness to cover the pink flush in Dan’s cheeks, well aware that everyone in the room was listening to the conversation. It was the tiniest room in existence, of course they were, and Dan could have sworn that the walls were only closing in.

“Nah, Ed forced me to tone it down a bit,” Dan said, congratulating himself on the minimal fluster in his voice. “Didn’t think your audience would understand the flower crown vibe.”

What had actually happened was Ed bluntly informing him that if he wore the flower crown he usually sported for events, it would be stolen in about two seconds flat, and he was going to have to at least wear dark jeans if he was going to wear the pastel blue button-up shirt, because otherwise he’d practically be glowing in the dark.

“Probably right,” Ollie said, and the permanent smile he seemed to sport was at odds with his scruffy black and red hair, stretched lobes, and the tattoo that started on his neck and trailed down his muscular arms. “Well, Dan, good to put a face to the name. This is Pete, this is Tom, but everyone calls him Cooper, and this is Phil.”

The first two names were lost on Dan, because Phil had looked up at the sound of his name, and flashed him the brightest smile he’d ever seen. There went the plan of avoiding eye contact. Back here, they all looked different, but Phil especially. Dan hadn’t been dreaming the tattoos that covered his arms, but he was definitely less pierced than the rest of the gang, his lip and eyebrow the only places metal was glinting from. His hair was so black it almost looked blue, but he’d foregone the eyeliner the rest of the band was sporting. All of this was almost irrelevant though, because all Dan could focus on were the adorable oversized glasses he was wearing, making him look as harmless as a squirrel.

Any final hopes Dan had of not losing his mind completely over this boy melted away, because Phil the inked-up, glasses-wearing guitar player was going to be near impossible to forget.

“Drinks then?” Ed suggested, and the boys cheered, a sound that seemed to cement Dan’s doom.

—

Dan wasn’t sure how a five minute walk had carried them to a bar situated on the surface of the sun, but he was currently downing drink after drink just to try and cool down.

He definitely should have bailed, claimed he was too tired or something. It wasn’t that he minded crowded bars, and he was never one to turn down a drink, but he just wasn’t in the mood tonight. Instead of having fun, he was just growing more irritable. Everyone’s voices were too loud, the bar felt sticky beneath his arm, sweat was beading beneath his fringe. Ed and Ollie had wasted no time in starting a drinking contest, with Pete and Cooper spurring them on. Phil had found some other friends a while back and gone to chat to them, so Dan was stuck watching Ollie crush Ed with pint after pint, occasionally glancing over at Phil and feeling jealousy eat away at him.

“Gonna get some air,” Dan muttered to no one in particular, and headed for the doors, stumbling out into the street and breathing in that fresh cigarette smoke.

Edging away from the smokers, who paid zero attention to him, Dan plonked himself on a nearby window ledge, and people-watched for a while. Monday nights were hardly renowned for their excitement, but there were a few people in town, and the snatches of conversation he caught were amusing enough.

A while passed, and every time the doors opened, the noise filtered outside and sent a wave of guilt through him. He knew he probably wasn’t being missed, and he wasn’t exactly sure what his problem was, but he was currently being undeniably antisocial, and he probably ought to go inside and make his goodbyes.

Glancing down at his feet, Dan scuffed his sneakers into the cobbled stones of the street. He’d last worn these black pumps about five years ago, and it had been a while since his legs had been clad in dark denim. Though he knew where Ed was coming from, he was pretty sure he’d feel ten times more comfortable in his own clothes.

“This seat taken?”

Dan jumped a foot in the air at the voice, head snapping round to find Phil stood next to him.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, flashing Dan a sheepish grin that made his stomach squirm. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no it’s fine, I was just daydreaming,” Dan said, finding his voice. “Sit down, sure.”

Great idea, Dan, engage in a one on one conversation with this man, demonstrate in great detail how awkward you can be with nowhere to hide.

“Thought you might need a top-up,” Phil said, handing Dan a pint.

Dan blinked at him for a moment, trying to work out how someone who looked pretty damn intimidating could have such a soft, friendly voice.

“Er, thanks,” he managed to say, mechanically reaching out for the drink and praying to god he didn’t drop it or anything.

Phil nodded at him, and Dan was sure he caught a flash of amusement on his face, but it was gone in an instant and he tried to put it out of his mind. He didn’t need anything else reminding him of how much of a fail he was.

“So how come you came out here?” Phil asked, as casual as if they’d been friends forever, and hadn’t just met tonight.

“I was getting pretty hot,” Dan explained, and anyone else would have stopped talking at that point, but thankfully, _thankfully_ , Dan had found his voice. “And it was so noisy. And kinda sticky. And a bit sweaty. And-”

“Not your idea of fun?” Phil interrupted, saving him from his own waffling.

“No, no, usually I’m fine,” Dan insisted, simultaneously wanting to run away, and also stay here forever because Phil was talking to him and him alone and he seemed genuinely interested in Dan and what he had to say and that was probably dangerous. “Just not really in the mood, I guess.”

“Same here,” Phil admitted, and the way he was smiling at Dan automatically made his own mouth curl up into a half-smile. “We’ve done three shows in a row, and I just want to crash.”

“It was amazing by the way,” Dan said, mentally kicking himself for not bringing it up before. “Your band, you’re really good. Really enjoyed myself.”

“Really?” Phil frowned. “Ed said you hated the heavy metal, punk rock thing.”

Busted.

“Well… yeah,” sighed Dan, but to his relief, Phil just grinned, and he relaxed. “But _you_ were really good.”

“Thanks,” Phil said, sounding a little surprised but pleased. “So what do you like to listen to?”

“Um, all sorts,” Dan shrugged. “There isn’t a lot I don’t like.”

“Wow, thanks,” Phil teased.

“Oh Christ,” Dan groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, we’ll blame it on the tiredness,” Phil laughed, and Dan tried to laugh with him, but the tip of Phil’s tongue stuck out to the side when he chuckled and Dan was in way, way too deep.

“Honestly, I should just start again.”

“Would you be less awkward?”

“Probably not.”

Phil laughed at the comment, throwing his head back a little and covering his mouth with his free hand, eyes crinkling. Dan paused, trying to work out if Phil was laughing _at_ him, but this guy was too sweet to be doing that, so he joined in nervously.

“I should probably get going back,” Dan found himself saying. As much as he didn’t want to leave this moment, well, ever, he did have a lecture tomorrow morning that he hadn’t read anything for, and he was starting to feel a little wiped.

“Want me to go get Ed?” Phil asked, and Dan was going to need him to stop doing sweet things like offering to go back inside so Dan didn’t have to, because he was probably never going to see the man again after tonight, and that made unrequited love at least a hundred times harder.

“Nah,” Dan said, standing up and setting his empty glass on the ledge. “I can get home by myself.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, frowning a little. Dan nearly cracked a joke about how guys who sometimes wore nail polish learned every trick in the book on avoiding confrontation at night, but he managed to stop himself in time. That was certainly not a conversation for tonight, and at the rate he was going, he might just manage to leave Phil with a halfway normal impression of himself.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dan grinned. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Any time,” Phil said, and he sounded like he genuinely meant it. It was kind of a shame Dan would never be around to take him up on that offer ever again.

“See you around then,” Dan said, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a few steps away. “Nice to meet you.”

Had that been too much? Maybe.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil called, making him abruptly spin on his toes. “You, and Ed obviously, you’re always welcome to come and watch us play another time. Or even just rehearse. We’re usually at Ollie’s house.”

“Thanks,” said Dan, heart thumping as he tried to process the idea that Phil was trying to set up a way for them to actually talk again.

He needed to calm the heckity heck down. Phil, like most other _normal human beings_ on this planet, was probably just seeing an opportunity to make a new friend, nothing more. Dan didn’t need to read any more into this. Look at the guy, for Christ’s sake, Dan. Hair as black as Dan’s soul, dragons trailing up and down his arms - yeah he’d inspected them pretty closely - and one hell of a talent for playing guitar. Guys like him didn’t go for guys like Dan, or for guys full stop.

And yet the entire walk home, the way Phil had looked at him as he’d handed him that drink was on repeat.

—

The week passed in a blur of early morning lectures, a few mind-numbing seminars, a tutorial on something Dan had never even heard of, but rather nicely, only one or two jeers. If he had to choose his favourite thing about university, it would hands-down be the fact that everyone was so much more okay with how he dressed, how he acted, even how he talked. There were a few idiots that muttered about the lanky, articulately awkward boy in the white converse, but for the most part, they were easy enough to ignore.

By Sunday afternoon, all Dan wanted was to lie in bed all evening and mindlessly surf the internet, his hobby of choice. When Ed knocked on his door, he groaned.

“Oi, don’t be like that,” Ed huffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. “I was going to see if you felt like heading out?”

“No,” was Dan’s simple reply, and then he considered it a little more. “It’s a Sunday night. Where the hell are you planning to go?”

“Not out out,” Ed laughed. “Over to Ollie’s. Him and the other guys are practising for a gig on Wednesday and he just got a new TV.”

Dan failed to see how those two connected to each other - they actually seemed to directly contrast, a television usually a safe bet for ultimate distraction and procrastination - but the band meant Phil, and Phil meant Dan was so up for that.

“Yeah go on then,” he said, trying to sound matter of fact. “Just give me five minutes to straighten up.”

“That’ll take more than five minutes,” Ed cracked, and Dan threw a cushion at him, missing spectacularly. “Nah, sound mate, see you in a few.”

They’d been flatmates for six months now, and Ed still got the same delight out of cracking gay jokes as a seven year old.

Dan glanced in the mirror, debating his choices. He could either stay in his current attire, his favourite combination of grey skinny jeans and lavender jumper, and risk Phil wondering who the fuck the fairy watching him play guitar was, or he could darken it down and risk a slippery slope. He’d tried the whole pretending to be someone else thing at school, and it was exhausting.

“Screw it,” Dan muttered to himself, slipping his feet into some white pumps and shoving his wallet, keys and phone in his pocket. He was going as he was, black earrings and all, and he’d just have to pray Phil didn’t like, punch him. He seriously doubted that would happen, but it was best to be permanently prepared for the worst-case scenario, just in case he ever happened to find himself accidentally enjoying life.

“Ready?” Ed asked as Dan wandered into the kitchen, the unspoken meeting place. “It’s only a fifteen minute walk or so.”

“Ugh, walking,” Dan said, rolling his eyes dramatically, but Ed just ignored him, heading for the front door. He was too used to it by now.

“Thought you’d say no to be honest,” Ed commented as they trudged into a different part of the city, slightly less overrun by students. “Didn’t think you’d want to listen to them again, especially just in a rehearsal.”

“Well, they seem like decent guys,” Dan shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “And Phil said I should come by if I was free, so, you know, being polite and all that.”

“Phil? Oh, the lead guitarist? Hardly saw him the other night. Didn’t even realise you two had spoken.”

“He just caught me before I left,” Dan lied, not really knowing why but wanting to keep their little conversation, their moment, a secret.

It was ridiculous, because firstly, they hadn’t had a moment, secondly, _they hadn’t had a moment, Dan_ , and if he took off his rose-tinted glasses - would Phil be wearing his glasses tonight? - he acknowledged that they’d really spoken for quarter of an hour tops, and Phil had probably just invited him again to be polite. So of course he was going, to be polite.

“Ollie said their new TV is sick,” Ed said, not paying much attention to Dan. “Looks amazing when they play FIFA.”

“Wonderful,” Dan said dryly. Obviously football video games were his top choice, what with all his sporting expertise.

“Okay, it’s on this road,” Ollie continued, ignoring his sarcastic friend. “Number twelve.”

“Is it that one?” Dan said, trying to point at the house and not pull a face at the jungle of a front garden. Seriously, was it so hard to just cut the grass once?

“Yes,” Ed grinned, and marched over to hammer the door unnecessarily loudly. Dan stood behind him staring at his feet, twisting them inwards towards each other and trying to ignore the regret bubbling up inside of him. This had been a wild mistake; he could have left things the way they were the other night, Phil thinking of him as a reasonably normal guy. But no, he was here, and the door was opening, and he was going to have to look up at some point.

“‘Sup?” Cooper greeted them, giving Ed a fist bump as he passed, and Dan a nod which he returned with an awkward wave, regretting the action even as he raised his hand. “We’re in the study.”

The study should have counted itself lucky to be graced with such a name. It turned out to just be a fairly small room, with a simple wooden desk bearing a laptop that clearly didn’t spend much time there, and a tiny sofa beside it. It was verging on just being a chair. The rest of the room was taken up with instruments and wires, and Dan hovered in the doorway for a moment, afraid to take a single step further. It was almost inevitable that he would trip on something, flail wildly, then crash to the floor in a most undignified manner, probably causing a suitably expensive amount of damage while he was at it.

Ed, of course, bounded through it all straight away and crashed into the couch, yelling for Ollie to get his butt into the room to say hi. A door burst open to Dan’s right, and he backed out of the room again, pressing himself against the wall with his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable, he was just afraid of making a fool out of himself, and this was the smallest house he’d ever been in. Ever.

“Alright, Dan,” Ollie grinned, clapping him on the back as he followed Cooper into the room to greet Ed.

Dan muttered something inaudible in response, absentmindedly wondering if he’d have to sit on the floor while they played given that Ed probably wasn’t going to want to share his spot.

“Dan!” sounded a voice to his left, and Dan spun round to see Phil climbing the stairs, face splitting into the biggest smile at seeing him.

Any regrets Dan had over coming evaporated instantly as warmth spread through his entire body.

“Hey,” he greeted Phil, mouth pulling up into a half smile as he automatically felt more at ease in Phil’s company.

“I didn’t realise you were coming,” Phil said, and if that comment had anything to do with the way Phil rearranged his hair a little, Dan wasn’t going to read anything into it at all. At. All.

The thing was, it was quite difficult to do that when Phil was facing him wearing black skinny jeans, a graphic tshirt, and those ridiculous glasses again, smiling. Smiling at him.

“Yeah,” Dan said, remembering a second too late to engage his brain, and internally dying at the poor response he’d given. He left the sentence hanging lamely, unsure of what else to add.

“Good to see you again anyway,” Phil said, stepping past him as if Dan wasn’t the most awkward creature on the earth.

“Ed invited me,” Dan shrugged, and then winced as it came out sounding like he was here against his will.

“And I did,” Phil winked, _winked_ , at him, and Dan found himself wandering into the room and perching precariously on the arm of the sofa Ed had claimed, his feet clearly eager to be nearer to Phil even if his head was still spinning.

“Ready for your favourite music?” Phil asked him with a smirk, stood directly in front of him and looking incredibly hot as he adjusted his guitar strap and played with some wires. Dan had no idea what he was doing, but his glasses kept slipping down his nose, and Dan’s heart was thumping so loud that they weren’t going to need Pete on the drums at this rate.

The first half hour of their rehearsal seemed to go well - not that Dan really had a clue what constituted a good rehearsal - with the band ploughing through three songs, fixing some lyrics on a fourth, and the decision made to add in a guitar solo from Phil on a fifth song, who quickly played with a few chord progressions that sent a shiver down Dan’s spine.

Cooper suggesting getting a drink was when it all went downhill. Phil’s offer to go grab water for them and cokes for Dan and Ed quickly turned into beers all round, and suddenly Ollie was suggesting they show off the new television, much to the approval of everyone.

Dan knew he hadn’t been far off when he’d sensed the TV wouldn’t fit in well with productivity. Glancing at Phil as the rest of the boys cheered at Ollie’s remark, Dan noted that he looked a little miffed, but he caught Dan’s eye and his face cleared, which made Dan smile.

“Let’s go,” Pete said, his tone of voice final, and the instruments were placed back in their respective stands where Dan was certain they’d be staying for the rest of the night.

Ed bounded after Ollie, animatedly chattering with him about some new film that was out, a conversation which Pete and Cooper immediately joined in with. Dan automatically trailed after Phil, feeling that he’d be like this even if he didn’t fancy the fucking pants off him. He just didn’t _fit_ with the other boys, and while this was a common feeling for him, he felt halfway comfortable with Phil.

“You sounded good,” Dan muttered as they entered the living room, and the edge of Phil’s mouth pulled up.

“Thanks. Nice jeans by the way,” Phil commented as he curled up on a two-seater in the corner of the room, and Dan abruptly sat down on the other end before his knees gave out.

He was so royally screwed.

“Thanks,” Dan managed to echo, sitting very still with his feet firmly on the floor, palms on his knees.

At this point, he’d pretty much given in to the fact that he was just a little bit in love with Phil, and that was fine. He couldn’t get any more perfect, so Dan would just sort his head out, move on, and forget about him. It was just a phase. It was all good. Everyone had tiny crushes from time to time.

And then Phil pulled out the Gameboy.

From seemingly nowhere, though it was probably the side of the sofa, Dan realised in hindsight, Phil pulled out the old-school games console, and Dan nearly choked.

“What are you playing?” he managed to ask, trying to sound casual.

“Oh god, sorry, that was so rude of me,” Phil said, looking up from the screen with an expression of self-amusement and also self-horror. “Force of habit.”

He went to snap it shut, but Dan threw out a hand to stop him, roughly a hundred times more dramatically than the situation necessitated.

“It’s all good,” he laughed, congratulating himself on how calm his voice sounded still, on how it didn’t sound like his stomach was twisting itself inside out. “So what game is it?”

“Just an old Pokémon,” Phil said, huffing out a laugh as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, and damn him for being the cutest punk nerd in the history of the universe. He was simultaneously Dan’s counterpart and antithesis, and it was infuriating that he was probably straight.

Probably. Dan wasn’t giving up just yet.

“Which one?” Dan said, sounding genuinely interested, and Phil beamed.

“Emerald.”

“Emerald, really?” Dan frowned, grimacing and sucking in a hiss through his teeth before he’d even connected his brain. Yes, judge a man whose company you’ve spent less than an hour total in, a great way to form a solid bond.

“Yeah,” Phil said defensively, but the way he was smiling suggested he maybe hadn’t taken offence at Dan’s tone.

“Ruby, always,” Dan said, deciding to carry on.

“I’m going to agree to disagree on-”

“Would you two shut up?” Pete hollered, and Dan hadn’t even registered that the others had joined them in the living room, let alone that they’d picked out a film and started playing it.

“Sorry,” Dan said, blushing furiously.

“Ignore them,” Phil said, nudging him with his foot and throwing a cushion at Pete’s head, missing by miles.

“So are you just replaying it?” Dan murmured, wanting to keep up conversation but also not get yelled at again. Phil was a ray of sunshine, but the rest of the band still scared him more than a little.

Had he just called Phil a ray of sunshine? Christ.

“Yeah, and I’m stuck on the same part I was when I first played it a million years ago,” Phil laughed, a low chuckle to try and keep the volume down.

“Which part?” Dan asked, extending an arm for the console without really thinking, tucking his legs underneath him and getting comfortable. Phil handed him the Gameboy, and Dan swallowed as their fingers brushed in the exchange. “Oh, this bit’s easy.”

“Go on then,” Phil said defiantly, raising an eyebrow in expectation. “Do it for me.”

He was a bit rusty with the console, and it took him a few moments to get used to the way he handled it again, but ten minutes later, Dan was handing it back to Phil with a smug look on his face, while Phil gaped at him.

“So what, Mr Flower Crown is a secret gamer nerd?” Phil teased, but Dan’s face dropped at the nickname before he could hide it.

Was that what they called him? Ed and his friend, flower crown. He’d never even worn one in front of them for god’s sake. How much had Ed banged on about them? It wasn’t like he wore them every day.

“Hey, I’m just messing,” Phil said, poking him with his toe again and looking worried.

“Yeah, I know,” Dan said, giving him a false smile which Phil clearly didn’t believe. “And yeah, guess I am, but it’s not much of a secret. Mr Punk Rock a secret gamer nerd too?”

“Just a bit,” Phil laughed, but it fell a little flat in the newly frosty atmosphere.

Dan took the beat of silence as a chance to swing his legs out from underneath him again, resuming his initial position and pretending to start paying attention to the film. He couldn’t focus on it though, some rubbish horror movie, instead trying not to throw up. He’d thought Phil might have been an exception to the rule, but apparently not. At least getting over him was going to be a bit easier.

Ten minutes later, and Dan couldn’t take Phil watching him more closely than his game, so excused himself to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind him and perching precariously on the edge of the bath, Dan scolded himself for being such an idiot. He was definitely over-reacting, and Phil was going to think he was crazy, but he’d just thought he was different.

The problem was, Dan had no issue with the way he dressed. In school it had intensely bothered him that he preferred a pastel polo to a plain black tshirt, forever battling between being annoyed at himself for not being normal and annoyed at everyone else for laughing at him when he did give in to what he wanted. The problem was more that he wasn’t just his mint green jeans.

He was tall and impossibly awkward, but incredibly well-spoken, and somehow managed to take over a room when often all he wanted to do was blend in with the wallpaper. He played video games in his free time, had the highest tolerance for alcohol in his entire friendship group, and his iPod was a mess of mainstream rock, indie folk and eighties pop.

So when people just casually gave him nicknames based on what he wore, people who barely knew him, it stung a little. Whatever remained of his soul was pretty damn sensitive. And yes he was blaming Ed for most of this for obviously describing him poorly in the first place.

A knock sounded at the door, and Dan scrunched his nose up.

“Dan? You okay?”

For a moment, Dan wildly contemplated escaping through the tiny frosted window beside him, before deciding that facing a slightly concerned-sounding Phil was probably better than breaking both his legs after flinging himself out of a first floor window.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dan said brightly, wrenching the door open and making Phil jump a foot in the air.

“Oh,” Phil said, hand over his heart. “Sure? Thought I’d offended you somehow.”

“Well,” Dan began, before he could stop himself, and Phil’s face fell.

“Oh my god, I did, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I was just kidding and-”

“I know, I know,” Dan interrupted, feeling like he was about to have a super intense conversation in the doorway of a stranger’s bathroom and that he really would have to turn his life into a sitcom one day. “It’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine,” Phil said, frowning. “You locked yourself in a bathroom.”

“Christ, you must think I’m mental,” Dan said, grimacing. Was Phil always so blunt with his words? Was it wrong that Dan had already mentally fast-forwarded one, five, ten years and was imagining Phil being blunt with other sentences?

“I mean, I think you’ve spent too much time playing Pokémon,” teased Phil.

Dan huffed a laugh, feeling like he needed to explain himself.

“It’s just that there’s…” Dan trailed off, well aware of how pathetic the rest of the sentence was going to be.

“More to you than flower crowns?” Phil finished gently, and Dan shrugged.

“Kind of.”

“Hey, I know. Hell, there’s more to me than you first thought, surely? I’m practically two people; I spend half my time furiously playing guitar with some absolutely ridiculous tattoos on my body,” Phil said, and Dan was coaxed into a half smile. “And the rest of the time I’m wearing superhero pyjamas and playing video games at half three in the morning. It’s okay.”

“I know, I know it’s okay,” Dan said. “I just… sometimes, it’d be nice to be known as something other than just a guy who puts together flawless fashion combinations.”

Phil snorted, and Dan gave him another half grin, though what he’d said, he’d meant.

“Well, you do look pretty great,” Phil said, and Dan immediately flushed, hating himself. “I really do like the jeans.”

“Thanks,” Dan muttered.

“And for the record, I also think you’d work a flower crown.”

“Did you just say 'work’?” Dan asked, bemused.

“Apparently I managed to make a compliment awkward,” Phil groaned. “What I meant was-”

“I know what you meant,” Dan reassured him. “Wow, it’s so great that we’ve both really nailed this whole communication thing, and we’re not both so socially awkward it’s a fucking embarrassment.”

Phil’s eyes widened at Dan’s sarcastic vent, then he started laughing, covering his mouth and leaning forward a little, his hair flopping over his face. Dan smiled hesitantly, unsure of whether Phil had been ready for full-Dan yet, but it seemed all was not lost.

“Let’s make a deal,” Phil proposed once he’d composed himself.

“I’m listening,” Dan said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ll get to know you better so I have more than flower crowns as reference,” Phil began, looking at Dan with a slightly raised eyebrow. “If you promise to come to another show we’re playing on Tuesday. And you don’t rub it in that you’re better at me than Pokémon.”

“Hmm,” Dan murmured, as if thinking it over, as if he wasn’t absolutely sold on the idea of Phil getting to know him better, getting to watch him play again, maybe gaming _together_. His attraction to Phil seemed to grow in correlation to how nerdy he turned out to be. “And how do you propose getting to know me better?”

This was risky. It was verging on flirting, and Phil _had_ to know he was gay, which automatically made most straight guys almost amusingly uncomfortable.

“Well if you keep coming to rehearsals, we can have more heart to hearts in my bathroom and hallway,” Phil said, with a wonderfully straight face. “Or I can meet you on campus sometime and buy you a coffee? Unless your university social life is too packed?”

“I mean, I can probably make some time,” said Dan, and Phil’s face split into a grin. “But you should know I’m very fussy with my coffee.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket and handing Dan his phone. “Stick your number in that, and I’ll text you sometime this week. Unless seeing me three times in one week is going to bore you?”

“I’ll suffer through it,” he replied, smiling to himself as he added himself as a contact to Phil’s phonebook.

“Now as engrossing as I imagine the movie they’re watching in there is-”

“It’s one of the worst, it was the little girl’s imagination all along.”

“-thanks for sharing, they’ll notice we’re gone at some point. Plus I’ve encountered another problematic Pokémon.”

“You’re really bad at that game, aren’t you,” Dan joked, getting the hint and padding back through to the living room and making himself comfortable on the sofa again, as if he’d spent his entire life here.

Something had shifted between him and Phil, and it was making his heart thud, but also increased the sense of impending doom. It was way too late to get out of this now - Phil had asked for his _number_ for Christ’s sake - and he wanted to give that thudding heart a pre-warning that it was going to get broken sooner rather than later.

For now though, for now he’d roll his eyes at Phil’s gameplaying, steal the console from him and fight playfully with the man when he cleared the level easily. He’d share guilty glances with him when the others shushed them, he’d mutter under his breath everything Phil was doing wrong, and he’d sit there and try not to let it show how many somersaults his stomach did when Phil stretched out his legs to rest on Dan’s lap.

For now, he’d just try and pretend that he hadn’t fallen for a guy he’d known a week.

—

 _Hi ^_^_  
19:56

 _I might need your help with the game again._  
19:56

 _Also when are you free for coffee?_  
19:58

 _And how fussy is fussy? o.O_  
19:59

 _Oh, it’s Phil btw xD_  
20:00

It was Monday night and Dan’s phone was exploding with texts. It was cute and endearing, and verging on being exasperating, because Dan’s phone dated from the Stone Age and he couldn’t type out a reply fast enough before another one came through from Phil and flipped his phone out again.

 _chill_  
20:05

 _xx_  
20:05

Dan tacked on the kisses quickly, afraid Phil would mistake the only text he’d been able to type out for offhandedness.

 _Sorry. Didn’t mean to be annoying x_  
20:08

His instincts had been right, as ever. With a groan, Dan waited a moment to check Phil wasn’t about to blow up his phone again, then got to work on explaining himself.

 _you weren’t annoying :] my phone’s just a piece of crap and i can’t reply to you if you’re texting me. sooo i kind of have a send-me-one-text-at-a-time policy, sorry! it’s piss annoying, and i need a new phone because you texting me ten times a second is my new favourite thing xD_  
20:12

He waited nervously, hoping he hadn’t offended Phil, or weirded him out by sending an essay in reply. It’d be a shame if their texting ended before it had even really begun. Minutes ticked by and Dan winced. Christ, he’d blown it.

 _Oh! Guess I’ll have to get used to sending longer messages :P sorry! Thought you didn’t want me to text at all for a minute! ^___^_  
20:15

 _nope, you texting is definitely a good thing ;]_  
20:16

 _***:]_  
20:16

 _oh my god, that wasn’t meant to be a winky face_  
20:17

 _jeez, sorry_  
20:17

 _So you get to send multiple texts and I don’t? That doesn’t seem fair ;)_  
20:19

Dan’s heart was pounding again. He was currently curled up on the bed, a couple of law textbooks strewn across the bed, happily abandoned as soon as Phil’s first text had pinged through. The smile hadn’t left his face the entire time, until the moment he’d awkwardly used a semi-colon, but then Phil’s reply had had him grinning again in seconds.

It was almost like he was flirting with him, but Dan wasn’t going to let himself get his hopes up. He had to take this slowly, because he wanted Phil as a friend no matter what, and somehow, unbelievably, that seemed to be working, so he couldn’t mess it up. Still, that next text was making Dan’s stomach squirm, and a thrill ran down his spine as he considered risking it and continuing the back and forth a little.

 _is there any way i can make it up to you?_  
20:21

 _I think your punishment should be that you have to see me TWICE tomorrow. Coffee in the morning, and then at least one drink after the show?_  
20:24

At this point, Dan wasn’t even ashamed of the ridiculously huge smile he was wearing.

 _a harsh punishment, but i’ll try and get through it. what time for coffee and where?_  
20:26

 _You’re the one with morning lectures still silly, what’s good for you?_  
20:27

He was teetering on the edge. Until now, Dan had figured that yes, he was a bit crazy about Phil, but it was just him being a lovesick teenager, and he’d totally be able to move on as and when he needed to. It was getting difficult to keep believing that though, and the way he was going, he was going to be in love with a boy he’d known for a handful of days before midnight struck.

 _11.20ish at the bean?_  
20:29

Dan mentally pleaded with Phil not to say the words he already knew were being sent to him.

 _It’s a date! ^_^_  
20:30

Dan was so wonderfully, terribly screwed.

—

People were staring, but for the first time in quite a while, Dan barely noticed, let alone paid them much attention.

He was on his way to meet the man he was a bit in love with for a one on one coffee date, so yes he’d gone full flower crown and yes he was wearing a tiny bit of eyeliner and yes, he was playing with his hair every five seconds.

So far though, so far he actually felt okay, like he didn’t look like a complete mess, or a failed fairy queen. He was unashamedly wearing the jeans Phil had complimented again, this time with a short-sleeved lilac button up, white flowers in his hair, copper-coloured earrings, and a smug grin.

He’d felt a little guilty for making Phil wait until nearly lunchtime for this given that his lecture had ended at ten, but Dan was not a morning person, and he’d known he’d need time to head back to his dorm, properly get dressed, and then set off again. He was lucky to put together an outfit that matched for a nine o'clock lecture, let alone one that looked good.

Phil was waiting for him outside the cafe, and as Dan drew closer, his breath caught a bit. Internally rolling his eyes at himself for being such an enormous cliché, Dan tried to keep his cool as he wandered over.

Between them, they were attracting all the strange looks, Dan with flowers in his hair and Phil in sinfully skinny black jeans, a short-sleeved black tee that showed off nearly every inch of his beautifully inked arms, and black hair swept to the side. Dan noted with some satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop adjusting his fringe. Sadly Phil had foregone his glasses today, though admittedly they wouldn’t quite have fit with the rest of his attire.

“You look adorable,” Phil grinned as Dan sidled up to him.

“And you look like the inside of my heart,” Dan deadpanned back.

“Until you open your mouth,” Phil muttered, and Dan failed miserably at hiding his smile.

“Hello,” he said, suddenly nervous, and Phil grinned.

“Hi,” he replied. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think we both know who looks more out of place here,” Dan said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Definitely you, you’re wearing _eyeliner_ ,” Phil teased, and Dan playfully shoved him. “Shall we?”

Dan nodded and followed Phil through the door, feeling awkward as he trailed behind him to the counter.

“What are you having?” Phil asked.

“I can buy my own coffee,” Dan protested, and Phil frowned at him.

“No way, I suggested this, my treat.”

“It wasn’t like I wasn’t willing, let me pay.”

“You’re a student.”

“We’re at a _university_ cafe.”

“That’s not the point.”

A small, pointed cough from the girl behind the till stopped their bickering briefly and they both turned to face her looking guilty. Narrowing their eyes at one another, they lasted a second before Dan groaned and shrugged.

“Fine, a skinny latte macchiato with a touch of caramel sauce, some cream but not too much, and a dash of cold water because I don’t like it too hot. Oh and a blueberry muffin. And I’m buying you a drink later.”

“Are you done?” Phil asked, blinking at him.

The girl serving them bit her lip to hide her smile, and Dan looked at Phil innocently.

“What? I did warn you.”

“Whatever the hell he just ordered,” Phil said to their barista, waving a hand in Dan’s direction. “And an Americano please.”

“Boring,” Dan said under his breath. “And I can’t be the only one eating.”

“I fully intend to eat half your muffin,” Phil muttered as he fished a tenner out of his pocket, and Dan turned to the side so no one could see his expression.

Ten minutes later and they were sat by a window in the corner of the cafe, Dan curled up on a comfy chair and Phil opposite, looking at Dan’s caffeinated concoction with faint revulsion.

“I’m getting toothache from looking at it.”

“But it’s so good,” Dan insisted, taking another sip and licking some of the froth of his top lip. It didn’t slip his notice that Phil watched him for just a beat too long as he did so, and there he went again, freefalling into an oblivion of fantasies where Phil felt just as strongly for him as Dan did. It was problematic.

“Hmmm,” Phil frowned, disbelievingly. “So are you excited for tonight?”

“Probably not as excited as you,” Dan tried, and Phil laughed.

“Are we that bad?” he winced.

“No, no no no,” Dan said, waving his hands and nearly knocking his coffee over in true Dan style. “You guys are really good.”

“Based on the two whole times you’ve heard us?” Phil ribbed.

“Yes,” Dan nodded affirmatively, and Phil chuckled, tongue poking out between his teeth. “Especially your guitar player, he’s pretty talented.”

“I heard he’s average,” Phil sighed, sipping his coffee and looking up at Dan from under his lashes.

“You know, I did hear him totally fluff up this one chord progression,” Dan shrugged, and Phil flicked a stray blueberry at him.

The muffin hadn’t lasted long - it turned out Phil’s idea of sharing was just picking bits off the muffin until a pile of crumbs sat in the case, and Dan had given up. Though he knew it wasn’t a real date, _it really wasn’t a date_ , Dan couldn’t help thinking that if it had been, twenty minutes in and he was already having a better time than he’d ever had before.

It had only been eight days, and yet Dan felt like they’d known each other a lot longer, the conversation rolling off their tongues easily. It turned out that opposites really did attract, because on the few things they did disagree, their opinions still seemed to complement each other, in the same way their floral converse and black boots fit together under the table.

“So,” Phil began after a lull in the conversation, and Dan raised an expectant eyebrow at him. “The flower crown.”

“So,” Dan countered without hesitation. “The dragon tattoo.”

He smirked at Phil, letting him know he wasn’t in the same place he’d been in the other night. Today Dan knew that he looked decent, and the approving look he’d gotten from Phil as he’d wandered over had confirmed that.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad,” Phil said, raising his hands defensively.

“I don’t wear them all the time, relax.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad!” Phil insisted.

“But you were going to say something,” Dan said, and Phil shot him a sheepish glance.

“So you only have a few?”

“Oh no, I have about ten. Choices, Phil, choices,” Dan laughed, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“I promise I wasn’t going to say anything bad,” he said seriously. “I like it. A lot.”

Dan flushed and looked down, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Your tattoos are alright too,” he mumbled, and Phil shook his head, grinning.

“Will you wear one tonight?”

Dan looked up at him with an expression that said he was not amused.

“Sure, it’ll be fun watching you guys perform with a bloody nose,” he cracked, but Phil paled, looking at him with wide eyes that didn’t fit with the roses that snaked around his neck and up past his ear.

“People… they’d beat you up for that?”

Dan nodded grimly, not sure why Phil was that surprised. God knows he’d seen it coming the first time he’d shakily stepped out of his bedroom wearing what he’d wanted, and that had been a few years before flowers found their way threaded through his hair, when all he played around with was coloured hair chalk in his fringe.

“Has it happened before?” Phil asked quietly, grip tightening on his coffee cup.

Dan had to admit that it was kind of sweet, and very naïve, of Phil to be so horrified.

“Once or twice,” he lied, not wanting to scare him any further by admitting that he’d kind of lost track of how many times he’d stumbled in his front door trying not to drip blood on the carpet, or how many times Ed had had to scoop him off a pavement since being at uni. Students in the day were fine; strangers in a big city at night were a different story.

“Then don’t wear one to the show,” Phil said worriedly. “But bring one with you. Wear it after, when we go out, and I’ll be there.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dan said, a little irritably. “I don’t need someone to look threatening next to me just for me to be able to wear what I want.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Phil groaned. “I, in no way, look threatening. I just know what some of our audiences can be like, and I want you to be okay. I want you to want to come back to our shows.”

Dan chewed his lip, trying to reason with himself that Phil wasn’t being intentionally condescending, and he was going to have to try and keep a lid on his naturally melodramatic self.

“I mean, you look a bit threatening,” Dan informed him. “That all black thing you’ve got going on.”

“Do you not like it?” Phil frowned, looking down at his outfit worriedly.

“Didn’t say that,” Dan smirked, and Phil grinned back, seemingly relieved that he hadn’t mortally offended Dan.

“Well I like the look you’ve got going on too,” Phil said earnestly. “And I think you should wear whatever you want, whenever you want. As long as you stay safe.”

Dan felt a rush of gratitude towards Phil, actual angel Phil who was one of the best people he’d probably ever meet, and even if he’d never like Dan in the same way Dan liked him, Dan knew that he had to keep him as a friend, because he was too precious to lose.

“What if the flowers got even bigger?” Dan challenged him, counteracting his soppy thought with a dry comment. “Or I started wearing all black like you? Maybe I should get some tattoos to match yours-”

“Don’t you dare,” Phil glared. “You’re much too pretty for that.”

Dan nearly choked on his drink, brain frantically trying to process Phil’s words. Phil’s mouth dropped for a moment, apparently just as stunned as Dan to hear those words fall out of his mouth, but Dan pulled himself together, not wanting to make things awkward. God knows he’d been in Phil’s position often enough.

“Too late,” he smiled mischievously, trying to keep his voice collected and unbuttoning his shirt a little to show Phil the sprinkle of stars inked across his left shoulder.

“Who are you?” Phil laughed, shooting Dan a fleetingly grateful look before blinking it away and holding his stomach as he laughed.

Dan buttoned his shirt back up and finished the last drops of his stone cold coffee, enjoying the way he made Phil laugh. A lot of people laughed at him, but not so many laughed because of him, because he wanted them too. It was a new feeling, and it was nice.

“You’ve still got a bit of catching up to do mind,” Phil said, finally pulling himself together and tugging the neck of his tshirt down a little to reveal a hint of his colourful chest.

An image of Phil shirtless floated into Dan’s head and he swallowed, willing the thought to go away. That was the last thing he needed.

Dan set his empty cup back on the table and Phil glanced down at his own lack of coffee, almost a little sadly.

“Can you believe we’ve been here over an hour?” Phil said, letting out a low whistle as he checked his watch.

“Feels like five minutes,” Dan said honestly. He was hoping Phil was going to suggest they go grab lunch, and he could conveniently forget about his half one seminar, but Phil was too damn perfect for his own good sometimes.

“Don’t you have a seminar in an hour?” he asked, and Dan tried not to grimace.

He knew it had been a mistake to text Phil his entire timetable last night, though it did make his stomach squirm a little as he realised Phil had memorised it. Dan had only told him to show off his blissfully empty days, rubbing it in as Phil moaned about having to hold down a bar job Tuesday night through Saturday, as well as endless band rehearsals and trying to get some work experience to strengthen his application for the Masters he was planning to undertake next year.

Okay, so maybe Dan had memorised his life too, but that was because he had an embarrassingly huge crush on the man. It was justified, kind of.

“Yep,” Dan nodded.

“Done any reading?”

“Nope.” Phil laughed, rolling his eyes, so Dan defended himself. “Not my fault, some creep got hold of my number and wouldn’t stop texting me all night.”

“Wow, that is creepy,” Phil said in mock horror, making Dan chuckle. “Come on then, you’ve got to cram in the next hour, and I have a sound check to get to.”

Dan sighed, standing up and attempting not to look too disappointed.

“Suppose so,” he said miserably, thinking that it would be a whole lot more fun if he could skip his class and just follow Phil to soundcheck. He’d see him in a few hours though. He could wait that long. Maybe.

“So I’ll definitely see you tonight, yeah?” Phil asked as they stood outside, getting ready to part ways. “At the show, and after? Bring Ed again if you want.”

“You’ll definitely see me tonight,” Dan reassured him. “I owe you a drink.”

Phil shook his head, but it lost some of its meaning given that he couldn’t stop smiling.

“This has been really fun. Promise we’ll do it again?”

“Promise,” Dan said, as solemnly as if it were a wedding vow. Wishful thinking.

“Good luck with your seminar.”

“Good luck in soundcheck.”

Dan felt like he was floating as he made his way to the library to grab a book that he would pretend to read for the remaining time before class. A few people glanced his way, but he couldn’t care less, because he’d just had coffee with Phil, _coffee_ , with _Phil_ , and it had been a dream and so perfect, and he’d well and truly given up on attempting to deny his feelings for the boy.

He was a bit in love with Phil, and the worst part was, he was almost letting himself dare hope that Phil was a bit in love with him too.

—

 _good luck! or break a leg, or whatever i’m meant to say :]_  
19:56

 _Thanks! Probably best to stick to the luck, I’m clumsy enough as it is ^__^_  
20:04

Their spontaneous coffee trips were starting to become routine, along with Dan going to the band’s shows and texting Phil good luck before each one, and Phil calling Dan as he walked to work at night, plus the text that informed him he was home safe that Dan woke up to every morning without fail. They’d become _The Bean_ ’s number one customers, every single member of staff knowing to bring over two coffees, two plates, one muffin as they wandered in. They went at least twice a week, and it had been the week they’d grabbed coffee every day that Phil suggested they go out for lunch instead on the Friday.

Only Dan had had an annoyingly important lecture to attend, so suddenly lunch turned into dinner, and Phil was wearing a shirt for once, and Dan had left the flower crown at home, and they’d accidentally bumped hands more than once as Phil walked Dan home.

“Tonight was fun,” Phil had said, his voice unusually soft and quiet as they reached Dan’s block of student flats.

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Dan smiled, and silence lingered for a second. Dan was pretty sure he knew what Phil wanted to do, and he sure as hell wanted it, but a window slammed shut somewhere and broke the spell.

“Come to rehearsal tomorrow?” Phil asked.

“Of course.”

It had become apparent very quickly that Dan was of no use at rehearsals, but he still enjoyed going, and Ed was almost always up for it too, so he’d taken to bringing along his work, scribbling away at essays and trying not to get distracted by Phil’s guitar playing, then sitting a bit too close together every time they all ordered pizza or watched a film afterwards.

It was on one of these occasions that Phil first experienced the downside to Dan’s appearance choices. It had been about two months since the coffee date that seemed to set their friendship in stone, and Dan had managed to stay out of trouble the entire time. Being at uni was nowhere near as bad as school had been, but two months was still a pretty decent amount of time to avoid incident.

He’d just happened to duck out of a night out a little early, bidding his flatmates goodnight and telling them he’d be fine to get a taxi home by himself. It was only a short journey anyway. Dan’s walk to the taxi rank had been interrupted by a couple of drunken idiots stumbling out of a nearby pub though, and he’d instantly sensed trouble.

“No stealing the game off me tonight,” Phil murmured to Dan as they all took their usual places on Ollie’s sofas, Dan and Phil preparing for more intense but silent Pokémon battles. He nudged Dan in the side as he joked, and Dan hissed in pain.

“Fuuuu-,” he couldn’t help groaning, tears springing to his eyes as Phil made contact.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked worriedly, games console forgotten in an instant as Dan creased up, curling into his side. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think I’d hit you that hard, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“Not your fault,” Dan managed to get out through gritted teeth, which seemed to calm Phil a little, if confusing him further.

“Ed,” Phil said sharply, and Dan rolled his eyes as his friend turned round from hunching over Ollie’s laptop trying to choose a film. “What the hell’s happened?”

“Dan got roughed up again,” Ed said, flashing his friend a look of sympathy. He’d been through this a few times before, and was always decent about it, helping Dan out however he could and being his unofficial bodyguard for a few days afterwards.

“What?” Phil said, head snapping back to Dan in horror.

“It’s not a big deal,” Dan managed to say, uncurling a little bit. The stabbing pain was receding, and he could breathe again, which was always handy, especially in Phil’s presence.

“You have tears in your eyes!” Phil whispered angrily, not wanting the others to hear but needing Dan to understand the urgency behind his words.

“They just punched me in the stomach a few times,” Dan appeased him. “Think they were going to carry on but a bunch of people walked past so I just ran. Honestly, it’s just in one place. I’ve had much worse.”

He pulled a face at his last words, knowing that wasn’t going to reassure Phil in the slightest, and sure enough, his mouth had now popped open too.

“Do you want a painkiller?” Phil asked eventually, looking like a million other things had been on the tip of his tongue before deciding on that question.

“Don’t like tablets,” Dan said, scrunching his nose up. “It’s fine anyway, as long as I don’t move too quickly, it doesn’t even hurt. Just a few bruises.”

“You’re impossible,” Phil said, shaking his head, and Dan smiled at him innocently. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Sure,” Dan nodded, telling the truth. “Just don’t nudge me again.”

As Dan had somewhat predicted, Phil went to the other extreme for the rest of the night. He insisted they switch their usual places, and Dan lean against the arm of the sofa with his legs spread over Phil. He wouldn’t let him play the game, and asked if he needed anything so often that eventually Dan sacrificed a burst of pain to throw a cushion at his head.

It had taken Ollie’s intervention to reassure Phil that Dan and Ed were going to be okay walking home together, the three of them pointing out together that Dan had survived the first nineteen years of his life, and that a punch to the ribs hadn’t yet been proven to be life-threatening.

Once they’d finally escaped, Dan and Ed walked briskly, both of them blaming the cold but knowing the real reason was that despite his bravado, Dan was still shaken from the other night.

“So, when are you going to get with Phil?” Ed asked bluntly, taking their minds off the situation.

“What?” Dan asked, stomach dropping at Ed’s words.

“When are you and Phil going to make it official?” Ed continued, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s just that Ollie and I have twenty quid on it being within the next month, and we don’t want to have to hand it over to Coops and Pete.”

Dan was momentarily speechless, which wasn’t a problem he faced too often.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dan asked, deciding ignorance was a good first play.

“Oh come off it,” Ed snorted, looking up at his friend. “You two are all over each other. Do you see us lot sitting with our legs all tangled up?”

“Phil insisted on that,” Dan pointed out.

“Tonight,” Ed corrected him. “And what about every other movie night you’ve sat like that, or all of those coffee dates, and the dinners, and the times he walks you back to the flat, and the times you 'nip out’ with him and then you’re gone for hours?”

Dan huffed out a nervous laugh. He was busted.

“I don’t think Phil likes me like that though,” he shrugged, fully aware of the fact that this was a bit deep for his and Ed’s usual conversation tone, despite him being his closest friend, Phil aside.

And maybe that thought was what triggered it for Dan, because he’d known Ed since he’d started uni and they were flatmates, and Phil was just a random man he’d met a few months ago and already he felt closer to him than anyone before.

“You’re kidding right?” Ed laughed. “He’s mad for you. Ollie says he’s never seen him that crazy about someone, and they’ve known each other since they were fifteen.”

Dan’s heartbeat was erratic to say the least.

“Phil actually likes me? Phil’s gay?”

“Apparently he’s bi,” Ed informed him, and Dan’s mouth went dry. “Not that I’d know, given that he’s only shown interest in one person the entire time I’ve known him.”

Ed stopped walking and looked up at Dan, who tried to stay expressionless and nonchalant, but he was fooling no one.

“What?” Dan frowned as Ed shook his head at him, but he couldn’t keep up the act, and soon enough he was smiling so widely his cheeks hurt.

“You’re sickening,” Ed laughed, carrying on walking and leaving Dan stood there smiling for a moment before he caught him up. “Just ask him out already. I could do with a tenner.”

“I’m not asking him out,” Dan said, shaking his head. Not a chance was he risking rejection from his best friend.

“Well then you’d better make how you feel obvious enough to Phil. Maybe try getting beaten up again, that worked pretty well tonight.”

When he finally reached the flat, Dan pointed out to Ed that running away to avoid Dan’s wrath when he was injured was more than a bit unfair.

—

For a week now, Dan had been pondering Ed’s words. He needed to make it more obvious then - but how? He already felt like he was being pretty fucking obvious; he and Phil texted every day, and nearly saw each other as much, he swore his uni work was suffering because he spent so much time trying to look good for him, and the place he’d suggested they go for their last meal out had been full of other couples.

What the hell else did he need to do? Invite Phil into his bed?

Phil sprang a similar offer on him that afternoon.

“Do you have any lectures for the rest of the day?” Phil asked casually as he sipped his Americano.

“Nope, free for the rest of the week,” Dan said smugly. He loved Wednesday afternoons and cancelled Thursday lectures.

“Want to come back to mine?”

Dan’s attempt to stifle choking on his coffee failed miserably, and Phil smirked.

“Sure,” Dan squeaked, which only made Phil’s smile grow wider.

“Great,” he said casually, setting his cup down and smiling up at Dan, who was trying not to look flustered, something he was well aware he wasn’t achieving given his bright red cheeks and the milk foam he could feel on his nose.

Smooth.

“Straight after this?”

“Why not?” Phil said happily. “My parents came down a few weekends ago and they’d had a clear out of some old stuff and found my old Nintendo, plus a few of the games I never sold. I got hold of some new cables and stuff, and it works! So I thought we could maybe play that and-”

“Sounds fun,” Dan said gently, cutting Phil off before he could ramble anymore. And he’d been playing at staying cool; he was just as nervous as Dan, the cheat.

Phil beamed at him in response, then downed the rest of his coffee in one, making it more than obvious where he wanted to be. Dan awkwardly looked at his own half-full drink, a little reluctant to leave it behind but also more than a socially acceptable level of excited to go back to Phil’s place.

“Don’t rush,” Phil said, reading his thoughts.

Picking his drink up, Dan followed suit, feeling the intense sugar hit as he drained the cup and surfaced with milk froth covering his face.

“I’m good,” he grinned through the mess, and Phil laughed as he handed him a napkin.

“Come on then,” Phil said, getting up and holding a hand out for Dan.

Dan looked at it for a second, not entirely sure what to do because he was almost certain Phil hadn’t done this on purpose, and as much as he wanted to take Phil’s hand, just the idea of him grasping air as Phil pulled it back was enough to make his neck heat up.

In sync with Dan as ever, Phil followed his line of sight to his own outstretched hand and his eyes widened. Dan could practically see the millions of thoughts crashing through his head reflected in the bright blue.

There was a split second pause, and then Dan decided to be uncharacteristic and spontaneous for once in his life, and yes maybe he was on a bit of a sugar rush because Jesus Christ he’d downed that coffee quickly but he was going to regret not doing this further down the line, so he grabbed Phil’s hand, squeezing it to reassure him that this was okay, this was _good_.

Phil looked down at their linked hands and had apparently been rendered speechless.

“I thought we had a game to play,” Dan shrugged, trying to pretend like it was normal that he was linking his fingers with Phil, that he wasn’t holding on a little tighter than he needed to, that his stomach definitely wasn’t flip flopping all over the place.

They walked out of the cafe in silence, still hand in hand, and Dan was starting to get concerned as Phil still didn’t say a word. They made it through the university campus and towards the main road before Dan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Phil, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, instinctively letting his fingers go slack, just in case he’d accidentally made the man feel uncomfortable.

Phil stopped walking and turned to face him, but instead of the stilted comment Dan braced himself for, he just tilted his head.

“Nothing,” was his simple answer after an agonising few moments, and then he squeezed Dan’s hand a little harder and briefly lifted up on the balls of his feet to give Dan a quick, gentle kiss on the cheek.

Dan’s cheeks turned the colour of his shirt instantly, something Phil smiled at.

“Come on, Princess Peach needs us,” Phil said, pulling a dazed Dan along.

The silence they walked in for the next five minutes was entirely different. It was comfortable and it was warm and it made Dan feel like he was maybe on a cloud. Phil had kissed him. _Phil_ had _kissed_ him. _Phil_. And yes it was only on the cheek but right now they were holding hands and Phil was tracing patterns on the back of Dan’s with his thumb, and he hadn’t felt this content ever.

“Was that okay by the way?” Phil suddenly asked, turning to Dan with furrowed eyebrows, and Dan burst out laughing because only he could find a man with an eyebrow piercing and a heart of gold.

“It was okay,” Dan confirmed, and Phil breathed a visible sigh of relief.

“So you are… are you… you’re definitely…,” Phil attempted, stumbling on his words.

“Oh, you just assume that the boy wearing a pink shirt and a flower crown is gay, is that it?” Dan said, mock-affronted.

“No, no no no,” Phil backtracked, looking horrified. “No, no, I just thought, because you’d been so, and I was just-”

“Of course I’m fucking gay, I’m wearing a pink shirt and a flower crown,” Dan cracked up, in stitches over Phil’s expression.

“That wasn’t funny,” the older boy grumbled, nudging him with his elbow. “Thought I’d really insulted you, and an entire group of flower-crown-wearing straight guys.”

“Well I mean, they do exist,” Dan informed him, still smiling at how stricken Phil had looked. “But I’m definitely not one of them.”

“Cool,” Phil nodded, and Dan snorted again. He’d always thought he was the most awkward human being on the planet, but damn, Phil gave him a run for his money.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dan smirked.

“So…”

“So?”

“Are you going to ask me if I’m…” Phil began, trailing off suggestively.

Dan glanced up at him and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a more genuine smile. He wasn’t about to let it slip that he was already in possession of this knowledge, but just the thought of wiping that smile off Phil’s face was satisfying.

“I don’t need to. It’s been obvious you’re into me since we first spoke properly,” was the answer he opted for.

“Shut up, no it hasn’t,” Phil grumbled, stepping sideways so Dan stumbled a little. “And for your information, I’m not gay. I swing both ways.”

“Oh no,” Dan gasped, feigning horror.

“You’re so annoying,” Phil laughed.

“But you love me,” Dan said in a sing-song voice, swinging their hands.

“Little bit, yeah,” said Phil quietly, and Dan was so one hundred per cent finished.

—

They had their first proper kiss that same night, and their second, and third, and Dan kind of lost track of how many times Phil pressed him into his sofa and made him see fireworks behind his eyelids. All he knew was that not a lot of Mario had been played; the Nintendo had been switched on half-heartedly, but they hadn’t even completed the first world before the consoles had been abandoned, and they’d spent the next few hours just wrapped around each other on the tiny couch.

From then on, the coffee trips became a little more infrequent, and Dan found himself heading straight to Phil’s when they had spare time. Sometimes they really would game together, play-fighting when Dan beat Phil at everything they played, other times Dan would barely have said hello before Phil pulled him over to his bed. Most of the time though, they just flicked the television on and sat in each other’s arms, and Dan had to stifle a grin every single time, even a month or so down the line.

Phil’s flat was small, but cosy. It was effectively one giant room, the kitchen, dining room and living room all fitting in round one another, and half a wall separating an area just big enough for a double bed and a desk. The shelf that had once been filled with Phil’s old textbooks now held quite a few of Dan’s, given his tendency for writing essays while he waited for Phil to get home from work.

Sometimes Dan felt guilty for spending less time at his own flat, but Ed seemed too pleased for him to care too much, and occasionally Phil and the band would be heading up and down the country to play gigs, so Dan would drag himself out of his room and stop texting his boyfriend for five minutes to socialise with his flat.

His boyfriend.

He was still a little bit in shock.

“So do you know what tomorrow is?” Phil asked one day, making them both pasta as Dan frantically typed away at an essay he had sixteen more hours to complete.

“The day of doom,” Dan muttered, tossing another useless book to the side. “Or Friday, as some people call it.”

Phil fell silent and Dan took a moment to turn away from his laptop to grin at him.

“Kidding, I know what day it is. Six months since someone dragged me to a concert I hated, and I met this massive dork backstage.”

Phil narrowed his eyes at him, but it didn’t have much of an effect through the crack in the spare pair of glasses he was wearing, and the oversized Sonic tshirt that was splattered with tomato sauce.

“Want to do something?” he asked brightly.

“You want to celebrate the anniversary of us meeting each other?” Dan asked doubtfully, giving him a bemused expression.

“Well I have the night off work, and there’s a really nice new restaurant in town, and it’s not like we have anything else to celebrate right now,” Phil pouted, going back to poking the boiling pasta, looking a little hurt.

“Sounds good,” Dan said, bounding up from the desk and crossing the room to kiss the roses on Phil’s neck.

“Really?” Phil asked sceptically, shrugging him off.

“Really really,” Dan assured him, snaking his hands round Phil’s waist.

“Hands off,” Phil giggled, nudging him away. “I have dinner to cook and you have an essay to finish.”

“Boring,” Dan groaned, plodding back to the desk and glaring at his laptop screen. Seven hundred more words and he’d at least made the word limit. That would do.

Besides the half hour they spent eating dinner, it took Dan the rest of the night to finish the damn essay. Phil had said goodbye and made him promise he’d be at home in bed by the time he got back from work, but when he’d arrived back at the flat, Dan was sleepily typing up the last few references.

“You need to be more organised,” Phil murmured, bringing Dan a cup of tea and stifling a yawn, which set them both off for a while.

“Sleep is for the weak,” Dan croaked out, accepting the tea gratefully. “I’m done now.”

“Are you still going back to your place?” asked Phil tiredly, closing the laptop before Dan could make any more changes.

“Think so, I need a change of clothes.”

“Stay safe then,” Phil told him, glancing at his watch. “It’s nearly three. Are you sure you don’t want to just stay the night?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Dan smiled at him, standing up before he could change his mind. “I’ll be over after lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect,” Phil said, kissing him on the nose. “See you then. Good luck handing the essay in.”

“Cheers,” Dan mumbled, slipping his laptop into his bag. He’d pick up the rest of his books and papers tomorrow; Phil was used to his desk looking like a mini explosion whenever Dan had finished working. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Phil said, waving him out of the door with another yawn.

Walking home, Dan was only half with it. It was quite a clear night, moon shining brightly and his walk home was well-lit with streetlamps, which was probably for the best, or he’d have been sleepwalking before he knew it.

Hearing a crunch from behind him and then the raucous yells of a couple of older men, Dan momentarily froze and then pressed on a little faster, knuckles tight around the strap of his satchel.

“Hey, princess,” one of them called out, and Dan winced, suddenly fully awake.

He decided to just keep on walking, hoping they’d get bored and leave him alone, but before he could really register what was happening, one of the men had grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, and suddenly he was facing two mean faces, a few years older than him and a lot bulkier.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Dan attempted, but they just laughed at him.

“Nice shirt,” one of them sniggered, eyes flicking to the butterfly top Phil had bought him a week or so ago, and something inside of him snapped.

In hindsight, Dan knew it was a terrible idea. He was outnumbered, quite literally outweighed, and he was also on the verge of falling asleep, but he’d just had _enough_. For the first time in his life, he was actually happy, and he was so done with people trying to bring him down from that. And yes, in the cold light of day, he accepted that he probably should have just kept that thought to himself and run away, but instead, he found his fist plunging into the nose of the man who had made the shirt comment, a satisfying crunch from under his knuckles.

It didn’t take them long to gain the upperhand, and Dan was soon on the floor, praying to god that his laptop hadn’t been crushed, of all the irrelevant thoughts, but not before landing a couple more punches to their faces, and a rather enjoyable knee to the groin. Boredom took over eventually, and as Dan showed no signs of stopping struggling, even from his curled up position on the pavement, they’d wandered off, calling out a few more unoriginal insults for good measure before turning the corner.

An eerie silence reigned for a moment, Dan kind of enjoying the cool pavement against his cheek, but eventually he figured moving might not be such a bad idea.

Dan dragged himself into a sitting position, back against a nearby lamppost, arm curled around his stomach protectively, and let out a long sigh. He was still a little breathless, and his head was pounding - it took him less than five seconds to realise that this hadn’t been just another fight. He could see lights, and it wasn’t just from the stars.

Weighing up where he was, Dan realised he was still closer to Phil’s than his own flat, way closer, and his lack of options was beginning to dawn on him. Wincing, Dan reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone, mercifully not broken, and drew up Phil’s name from his list of recent contacts.

As the phone rang, Dan began to take stock of his injuries. One of his eyes was closing of its own accord, he could taste blood in his mouth and on his lips, his legs and stomach throbbed, and his knuckles were stinging. He’d done quite the number on himself, even if he’d given as good as he got this time.

“Miss me already?” Phil’s teasing tone asked as he finally picked up, but Dan was too busy focusing on not passing out to really absorb that.

“Phil,” he said thickly, adding a bloody nose to the list. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Dan?” Phil asked, switching from joking to worried in an instant. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Can you…” Dan trailed off, not really sure what he wanted in that moment other than just _Phil_. “Can you come-”

He stopped talking as his vision swam, and this seemed to cement it for Phil that no, he definitely wasn’t okay.

“Where are you?” he asked urgently, and Dan could hear the clink of his keys and the slamming of his door, already leaving the house.

“Main road,” Dan answered, not really sure of his exact whereabouts but certain that was probably enough. Phil would take the same route he had, and stumble upon him sooner or later.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Phil assured him, and Dan hung up, shoving his phone into his front pocket and trying to stay conscious.

He was fully aware of just how pathetic he looked, and prayed no one else would walk past, but beyond that, he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep for a long, long while now, adrenaline draining out of him as quickly as it had entered, and besides, Phil was on his way. Dan had only been walking for ten minutes or so before it had all happened, so Phil wouldn’t be long. His eyes drooped a little, and his head fell forward onto his chest, feeling too heavy to keep up.

Phil was there in less than five minutes, skidding to a half in front of Dan, sweaty and out of breath from sprinting the journey. Immediately he was on his knees, and Dan lifted his head a little to look at him with unfocused eyes.

“Dan, oh my god, Dan, what happened?” he asked frantically, hands fluttering uselessly as he tried to weigh up what to do. “Shall I call an ambulance?”

“No, fuck, no,” Dan groaned, coming to life a little at the ridiculous suggestion.

“Back to mine then?” Phil asked, and Dan nodded, thankful that he was seeing sense, then immediately feeling guilty for feeling anything less than immensely grateful towards Phil.

Dan slowly eased himself up off the ground as Phil hovered at ground level, floundering at the last minute but keeping his balance as Phil held out an arm for him to grab on to.

“Easy does it,” he murmured as Dan managed to get himself on two legs, the effort and pain of it all nearly bringing him to tears. “Come on.”

Dropping a little, Phil took hold of the arm that Dan didn’t have wrapped round his stomach and flung it round his shoulders, clasping his hand round Dan’s protectively and tucking his other arm round his waist.

“What happened?” Phil muttered, but Dan was barely with it enough to put one foot in front of the other at this point, let alone hold a conversation.

The walk back to Phil’s seemed to take about three years, but eventually the familiar door to the building loomed into view, and Dan’s head sank onto Phil’s shoulder in relief. He felt Phil tighten his grip on him and was vaguely aware of the lift up to Phil’s floor, and Phil’s struggle to get his keys out while keeping Dan upright.

Dan hadn’t even realised his eyes were closed when Phil lightly nudged his cheek with the back of his hand, murmuring something that Dan couldn’t distinguish.

All he knew was that he’d found himself sat on something soft, and that was all he wanted, so he let himself fall backwards and was dead to the world before his head even hit the bed beneath him.

—

“Morning sunshine.”

Dan moved at Phil’s voice and then turned the air blue with a string of pretty inventive curses, to the extent that Phil faintly blushed.

“What the hell happened?” Dan groaned, assessing his surroundings.

Every inch of him ached, and he appeared to be in Phil’s bed, with Phil sat cross-legged at the other end of it, watching him intently, and very worriedly.

“You got in a fight,” Phil informed him, a reprimanding note to his voice. “And judging by your skinned knuckles you fought back.”

Dan pulled a face, remembering now.

“What time is it?” he asked suddenly, panicked.

“It’s only half eight, don’t worry,” Phil said, his tone a little softer. “You’ve only been out for five hours or so. And I woke you up a few hours ago, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have concussion.”

“I don’t remember that,” Dan frowned, trying to sit up but not liking how that felt so flopping back into Phil’s pillow.

“You weren’t making a lot of sense,” Phil said, smirking. “I think the best part was when you called me 'Phli’. Think that’ll stick.”

“You can’t be mean to people who were punched so hard they saw stars,” Dan grumbled, pulling the duvet up over his head.

“I can when they obviously didn’t help matters,” Phil said, voice hard again as he stretched out to flop next to Dan, tugging the cover back down so he could see Dan’s eyes and the tip of his nose. “What on earth were you thinking? How many of them were there?”

“Two,” Dan huffed. “And clearly I _wasn’t_ thinking, that much is obvious.”

“You should’ve just called me straight away,” Phil said, frowning at him. “Promise me you won’t fight back next time.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I defend myself? Just because I look like this, doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

“I know, I know,” Phil said calmly, trying to keep the peace. “But even the best of men would struggle when they were half asleep, two to one. I just want you to be okay, you idiot.”

“Well, I lived, so that’s good,” Dan shrugged.

“That is good,” Phil agreed, looking amused. “However, we might have to postpone our anniversary dinner. You’re not looking too great.”

Dan grimaced and finally shuffled out of the bed and over to the mirror, faintly registering that he was shirtless, and that his shoes and socks were sat neatly on the floor, but more concerned over the state of his appearance.

“Might be right on that one,” he smiled wryly at Phil, who looked at him with sympathy. “Sorry.”

“It’s not all your fault,” Phil said, getting off the bed and wandering over to Dan, wincing as he took in all of the bruises and scrapes in the unforgiving daylight.

“Where’s my shirt by the way?” Dan laughed, turning away from the horrific sight in the mirror. “Didn’t have you down as the type to take advantage of your unconscious boyfriend.”

Phil flicked him gently on an uninjured part of his shoulder and motioned to it hung over one of the radiators, clearly drying from being washed. Dan’s heart melted a little bit.

“I can’t believe you got blood on the new shirt I got you,” Phil exclaimed, false indignation in his voice. “So rude.”

“I’ll dress appropriately for my next fight,” Dan reassured him with a straight face.

“There won’t be a next fight,” Phil said sternly, scrunching his face up at Dan, who just leaned in to kiss him despite the protesting from every part of his body.

“Thank you,” Dan sighed, limping over to Phil’s wardrobe to pull out a new tshirt. “Jesus, do you own anything that’s not black?”

“Don’t think so,” Phil laughed, wandering over to his desk. “Now get dressed, you have an essay to hand in by twelve.”

“Ugh,” Dan wailed, pressing a hand to his forehead gingerly. Just the thought of reading it back on his laptop screen made his head hurt. “It’s still not finished.”

“Yes it is,” Phil announced, handing him two copies of his essay neatly printed out and paperclipped together. “I proofread it in between freaking out over you dying last night. It’s really good! You just need to learn how to use a semi-colon properly, as in, you should steer clear of them.”

Dan stared at him, speechless.

“Well you’re a bit perfect aren’t you?” he finally managed, wondering if Phil was going to keep surprising him with how wonderful he was years down the line.

At this point he had no doubt in his mind that years down the line, they’d definitely still be together, disgustingly domestic and still making the band and Ed yell at them in unison when they forgot themselves and started kissing on the sofa during movie nights.

“Yes,” Phil nodded, his tongue poking out as he grinned at Dan. “Come on, we’ll get this handed in, go back to yours and grab some clothes, and then you’re spending the weekend here.”

“That sounds awful,” smiled Dan.

—

“Could you at least try and look like you’re having a good time?”

“I’m having a great time, see?”

“You’re so irritating.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“It took me two hours of persuasion and the promise of doing your washing up for the next week,” Dan pointed out, and Ed shrugged.

“Dude, this is the third concert we’ve been to _this week_ ,” Ed countered. “And they’re playing exactly the same set. You know I’m always up for this but even I don’t love Ollie that much.”

“But no one else will come with me,” Dan said.

“Probably because you ignore them the whole time, too busy drooling over Phil.”

“I don’t drool,” Dan huffed, giving him a shove.

As if he’d heard his name, Phil glanced their way during a guitar break, eyes lighting up like they always did when he saw Dan in the crowd. Dan wasn’t sure why he still looked surprised; Dan went to pretty much every gig he possibly could, until he knew the order of the setlist better than Phil did.

He was wearing his signature item, the black flower crown that Dan had both proudly and ironically presented to him when they finally sat down for their first-meeting-anniversary dinner three weeks after the scheduled time, when Dan had finally stopped attracting horrified looks from passers-by.

In return, Dan was wearing the black band tee he’d bought at the first concert the band had first started selling merchandise at, and even though it looked ridiculous with his pastel skinnies and the cloud print of his new shoes, he didn’t really care too much.

Phil winked at him, then turned his attention back to his upcoming guitar solo. The crowd, significantly bigger than the first time Dan had watched them live all those months ago, screamed as he did so, but Dan just grinned because he knew who that wink was for, and somehow, unbelievably, it was him.

“I don’t know how the hell you two ended up together,” Ed said, shaking his head but smiling at the same time. It was the first time he’d seen Dan properly happy and comfortable with himself in the entire time they’d been at university. “But you’re still sickening.”

“I know,” said Dan smugly.

**Author's Note:**

> my first ever phanfic finally hits ao3. a milestone for us all.
> 
> one hundred per cent inspired by llster‘s pastel!dan/punk!phil au, which is my all-time fave, and i used a bit of that storyline, but also added my own spin, so i hope that’s okay! i just really wanted some pastel/punk where dan and phil’s personalities were more similar to the real ones we see


End file.
